Rose Petals
by foulbeast
Summary: Sophie is addicted to two things, drugs and Howl. Will he ever return her feelings? There will be slash my darlings.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Something happened today. Something awful.

I was cruising' the streets, hopped up on goofballs and magic love potion. My dealer must have laced the stuff with rat poison, I was loosing consciousness, I was going to die, and it felt wonderful.

This is how it happened:

I was lonely, terribly lonely. It was one in the morning, Howl still wasn't home, and I just couldn't sit there any longer waiting for him to bring me the junk and a hot pot of lovin'. I had tried the unthinkable, the most horrendous disgusting thing you could imagine. As I sat in bed reading a crappy old romance I heard a strange beastly noise erupting from the room at the end of the hall. I crept out on tip toe, and with every step closer the noise grew more strange and more beastly. Finally it was beastly to the maximum. I reached out a trembling hand and gently squeezed the door open a half an inch. It was Michael getting nasty in front of the computer screen. Sweat was dripping from his thick, chaffed neck. Grease slid through his hair follicles. His arm pits were scraping against the sides of his fat breasts. His dirty clawed feet clomped on the wooden floor. I could smell his hot, grimy breath escaping those rough, cracked lips. And suddenly I had to have him. I pounced. He shrieked like a maiden. And we made love. And then everything went black.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

I remember clearly now- he had punched me in the head. And I had blacked out. Michael that lousy flea bitten git! I was in a dumpster, no doubt about that. Lost souls swam all around me screaming their torturous woes in my face. Raped and dumped like a naïve little schoolgirl. I buried my hot tears of shame in a random piece of trash, wiped my eyes on a rotting fish skin, and clambered out of that pit of despair.

Outside it was still night time, I breathed in the cold air. I dropped onto the alley way. My bare feet landed on the pavement. I splashed through a puddle of polluted water, grease and sperm. I was naked, that much was obvious. I quickly murdered myself a couple of rats and fashioned a loincloth out of their skins. I ate their innards, hot and raw they were, just like Michael. I suddenly had a craving for blood. I stumbled out of the alley and surveyed my surroundings. I was on a street I recognised, and I paddled along down it, winding down the side streets until I landed at my fav dealer's house. I had no money, so I traded him my loincloth and my virginity for a hit. He thought it was snazzy (the loincloth). As I was leaving I saw a man running through the jungle that had suddenly become his house in the cloth. I was running, running through the wilderness, and the crazy man was going to catch me. I quickly ducked under a sleeping lion. Stupid place to sleep that was, under a lion. I downed a bottle of lighter fluid and it gave me super powers.

Eventually I made my way back to the main road, this time I was in a sequined cocktail dress smoking with one of those long cigarette holders. I felt terrible and wonderful all at the same time. And this is where the story picks up again, me strolling down the street, full of rat poison and lighter fluid, headed for certain disaster. I was a balloon of flammable material just ready to be popped, let my insides run out onto the floor and set a match to it, that would have been a graceful death. Since I was in such a good mood I decided to pay a visit to my favourite strip joint. It had been a while since I'd gone. Howl had preoccupied my thoughts of late and I didn't want to disrespect him by stuffing dollar billz in some other woman's butt crack. No, Howl wanted all the cash in his. Said it kept him regular, load of crap that was. I happened to know he was using it on courting my sister Lettie. All I was good for was some extra spending money, we hadn't even had intercourse yet! In fact, we aren't even dating!

I love Howl, love him with every fibre of my being. His slender, girlish features, his long limbs, his muscular chest, his soft delicate hair, his sparkling eyes, his ripe, toned bottom. I try my best with him, really I do! I'm always courteous, I cook him meals, I compliment him, I drop every hint I can think of. When he's low on cash I lend him the few pennies I manage to scrounge up, I give him everything he asks for, but he just doesn't seem interested! I know it's because I'm so plain and boring, especially compared to darling Lettie, he only has eyes for her. I could cry right now, but alas I must keep it together and persevere! The club awaits my arrival!


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

I sat in the front row, ready to be entertained. Right now there was some low class hoochie in a cowboy hat dancing, her lipstick smeared across her gaping mouth, her soggy old breasts hanging limp on her chest. The beat changed, and the next performer appeared. And suddenly I realised why Howl always came home so tired, why his clothes were thrown on messily and hanging off his manly man shoulders, I knew where the black door led. Howl spun slowly around the pole, bright blue tassels hanging from his nipples, blowing kisses to all the lonely old men in the crowd. His stilettos sparkled in the spotlight, his eyelids were painted shocking blue, his lips deep ruby red. His dance was so full of emotion, of longing, of a young boy's angst. Tears fell down his soft cheeks, I wanted to lick them off, and so did all the other men in the crowd by the looks of it. I sipped my drink, the liquor stinging my delicate throat. He was beautiful, a blue butterfly floating, spinning, twirling in such a extremely provocative manner. And I was just Sophie, a dull, dusty old toe rag addicted to crack and smutty romance novels, longing for her true love that she can never have. I took a drag of my cigarette to conceal the tears flowing from my eyes. Suddenly Howl looked out into the crowd, his eyes landed on mine, and I knew things could never be the same. "Sophie!" he cried out. I stood up, gave him one last look, a single warm tear fell down my cheek. He looked hurt, horrified, stunned, appalled. Good. I had broken my beautiful butterfly. I turned and ran.


End file.
